As You Are, I am
by arnediadglndath
Summary: "They say you cannot change Fate" Legolas murmured, turning his head away. A soft breeze whistled over the high and forbidding walls. Somewhere, a bell tolled, like some distant and forgotten memory. Aragorn raised an eyebrow. "Well" he whispered, tilting the elf's chin and reuniting their gaze. "Whoever "they" are...they are wrong." Slash. A/L. Warnings Inside.
1. Heria

_Gi suilon, and welcome to As you are, I am. We'll head along to the overview after I give you some warnings._

_WARNINGS:There are a sere few of them._

_**Yaoi/Yuri: **Couples combined: Legolas/Aragorn (Laragorn) Main Cast. Eventual Arwen/Eowyn( Aowyn[mostly platonic. no detailed sex scenes. some implied.])_

_**Mpreg:** People...look it up. If you don't know what that is for the love of God look it up so you're not surprised. Though it won't happen until the relationship is firmly established and consummated, it's there._

_**Sex:** When I do sex scenes I don't skim. That being said: there is no non-consensual sex (aka RAPE) in this fic. Though descriptive, I do my best to have eloquent tangency in love scenes. They are honest but delicate._

_**Disclaimer**: I, arnediadglândúath, do not own any of the places, settings or characters herein. They are owned by the Saul Zaentz Company which licenses them through Tolkien Enterprises. (correct me if I have botched that a tad. But in any case, they are not mine.)_

_**Overview: **This is a narrative biography-partial and an Edhellen meleth trenarn. It will be extensive, detailed, and chronologically accurate. This is a commitment, it will take time and patience to peruse. There are not 'fast love' passages or hurried confessions. Out of respect for J.R.R. Tolkien, I leave the plot pertaining to the journeys of the Fellowship AND Thorin and Company unchanged. Embellished, perhaps, but never altered. The plot will followas a brief beginning window focusing on the life of Legolas._

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><p>My father raised me to listen more than speak, look no further than the gates of Amon Lanc, and to think of a dwarf like an orc with slightly more brains. It is within my humility to admit I failed him in the majority of these things. The degradation of Amon Lanc to Dul Gudur I could hardly help, I was little more than a child at the time. But I fear I have always spoken more than common elf royalty. As heir to the Woodland Realm; merriment was supposed to somehow be beyond me. As for dwarves, you know that story.<p>

Despite many overworked and delirious theories-(like the speculation I simply popped into a silver cradle near _Emyn-nu-Fuin_ with a bow in my arms)-I did have a mother. She died young, for an elf, and I do not think my father ever recovered. Though a good man in his own respects, Thranduil of the Woodland realm was oft blinded by memory of the world as it had been, and possessed little vision for change. Though stirred from the confines of his kingdom by the actions of Thorin and company, I do believe he would have allowed our people to sink into the stuff of Legend if it had not been for the cruelties of Annatar.

But I stray off the true aim of my story.

I spent my childhood under and in the shimmering boughs of Amon Lanc, I watched as the gloriousness of my home was reduced to naught more than the lair of a Witch, and I have found that from the best can come worst...and from the least can come most.

When I was asked to play the part of Emissary to Rivendell in 2951, I had no idea my world was about to be pulled up by the roots. As the say ; "step over a stream to find a waterfall." My name is Legolas, King of the Woodland Realm and Prince consort of Minas Tirith. This is my story.

_Lasta a gar-gul._

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><p><strong>Notes on the Text:<strong>

My knowledge of the Elven tongue doesn't go very deep. To keep things simple-(for me, and you)-I'm using a normalized form of Sindarin from and my own meager knowledge.

Translations:

**Heria**-begin

**Lasta**-listen(!)

**a**-roughly; 'and'

**gar**-to hold, "have" in thi case-I needed an "order" form but couldn't find one.

** gul**-knowledge

Because I'm trying to keep things as accurate as possible, it must be noted that Legolas was at least "middle aged" when his part in LOTR began. Some critics say he was 5000 years old which "_places his birthdate in the latter part of the Second Age._" It must be noted that eleves celebrate the day of their conception, not birth, and gestation is commonly an entire year, so elf age can be a tad misconstrued. Before we get too deeply into this, I want to reassure you that Legolas will have no sexual feelings for the 'young' Estel. Elf maturity and Human maturity vastly differs (due to their wildly differing lifespans.) In no way am I making this any kind of 'gateway' into immature smut. In Aragorn's childhood, Legolas plays the part of caring mentor, and no more.

It may seem like I'm going over the top. This is non a one-shot, or a ten-shot. It is a romance. It will be slow but worth it.

I will update once a week at the latest.


	2. Mina Glintha

I am not going to give the warnings again. You have been warned in the prologue, and if you didn't take me seriously, tough cheese.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. It all belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien.

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><p>I did not want to go to Rivendell. This may seem strange. After all, most children chafe to get away from their sires. I had stood as a near-silent shadow as my brethren went out to battle the ever-growing forces of Sauron. I envied them, but at the same time I knew it was a futile combat. There was a key, but it wasn't in blood or death. In some ways, I was quite content to stay home to ensure my father did not send any more of our people out to die. The King of The Woodland Realm was wont to be hasty, especially when it came to the protection of our people. When Annatar revealed his true motives, there was naught on earth to stop my father seeking vengeance, especially after the Battle Under The Trees, but that would come later. In any case, after much grousing and pleading on my part, I dragged my unwilling feet to Rivendell with perhaps a tad more belligerent than was acceptable and a mite less care than was needed.<p>

The roads between Mirkwood and Imladris were safer , but still darkening in spots. I might have fared better if I had been more watchful. The High Pass was littered with goblins eager for meat or money, I do not think it mattered. I was forced to leave one looking rather like a porcupine. I was previously accosted in the Vales of Anduin, and near made a spider's lunch afore I had even left Mirkwood due to a poorly premeditated nap. Needless to say, I arrived in Rivendell rather worse for wear but with no one to blame but myself. Elrond received me with his usual grace, though I did note that he appeared more distracted than when I had last seen him in Amon Lanc. I did not ask and he did not offer me any explanation. Imladris has alway stunned me with its beauty; both glittering and incandescent as well as indefinitely powerful. From the sunspot-ridden gardens and vales, to the arching carvestone of the Last Homely House, to the roaring waterfalls rushing in the valley….ever-moving, ever synchronized by Time.

I was received graciously at the gate and hurried to meet Elrond. We exchanged traditional greetings and he ushered me into the Council Room and urged me to sit down. A cheerful attendant brought us food and drink before bowing herself out of the room. Almost instantly, Elrond ceased his steady stream of pleasantries and took a world-weary sip of wine. This was so out of character, and so indescribably un-elvish I nearly commented on it. Thankfully, the Lord of Imladris spared me by offering his own explanation.

"I have been abroad of late" he said, sitting back in his chair. Then he frowned, as if to correct himself. "No, that's not right. My Sight has been abroad of late, not as oft as sometimes, but the Shadows weigh upon me more heavily."

"I guess that you speak of Annatar" I replied, toying with the scroll-work on the wooden table. "In which case, his Shadow lies heavily upon us all. Yet I see a weariness in you that has little to do with the spread of Darkness."

It was a bold statement, to be sure. Despite what many may think, we elves are not spared the woes of vanity. Elrond's eyes tightened almost imperceptibly as he searched my face for any sign of mockery. I held his gaze steadily and after a moment he sighed and looked away.

"I forget you are not so young any more, Legolas. You see what many have not. Just yesterday, a woman by the name of Gilraen came to my gates, seeking refuge for herself and her son."

I bit my lip, the name resonating somewhere familiar in my deep study of History.

"Gilraen...Gilraen the Fair?"

Elrond nodded grimly.

"But….then where is the Chieftain?"

"Arathorn son of Arador was slain by orc arrows."

"Ai Elbereth!" I breathed, digesting this information. "There was rumor of ill-fate in the Caverns but I-"

"-There is ill-fate everywhere" Elrond interrupted tiredly. "The sooner you learn this, the sooner you will be wiser."

"My father believes that Arathorn was the true heir of Gondor" I replied, picking up a grape but finding little desire to eat it. "If he is dead and he is right, the boy may be in danger."

Elrond stood and swept over to one of the many balconies overlooking the Vale. I noted that his brow furrowed much like my father's when he weighed the benefits of telling me a partial or whole story.

"If...it is only suspicion...then that is all it shall be" he hedged, sweeping an errant sleeve away from the spray of the waterfalls.

"You do not believe it is, and neither does Adar" I said wryly. "Rare would the day be that you both are wrong."

Elrond sighed, his expression taking on one of defeat.

"We...I...have decided to oversee the upbringing of the boy myself."

"What of Gilraen?"

"She agreed, though if she had her way I do not think they would stay much longer. Gilraen is not well in spirit, she grieves a husband she never bid farewell. Much like an elf, she desires the freedom outside of walls, how could she not living among the Dunedain?" He sighed. "But if the boy is to one day reign in Gondor there are things he must be taught that his mother nor the other Rangers can teach him. That, at the very least Gilraen knows."

"Does the youngling know?"

Elrond glanced sharply at me.

"Of his heritage? No. And it must remain that way. I do not speak ill of children when I say they are prone to keep no secrets. If such a truth were to fall into the wrong hands…." he trailed off and said no more, there was no need.

"My father would be loathe not to know of this" I murmured after several minutes of silence, my eyes downcast.

"Tell him" Elrond replied, still gazing into the Vale. "But make sure he knows not to speak of it to another."

We spoke little of serious affairs after that, exchanging only happy news of our homes over the meal and retiring from the Council Room to walk in the gardens at twilight. It was pleasant, if not achingly brief, to converse with such an admired and respected member of my kin. I did not get such a chance again, and the memory is dear to me.

"Tell me" Elrond asked after a time. "You have come for a reason, what is it that Thranduil wishes to say or know?"

We had come back to the main hall...where the Fellowship would meet many years afterward, though I did not know it at the time. The skitter of leaves across those flagstones was as ominous then as it was the day that Frodo was named Ringbearer. Resting my hand upon the rough-hews dias, I gathered my thoughts.

"My father...is prone to situational overreaction."

"This I know" Elrond replied, and I did not miss the musical vein of humor in his tone. Shaking off an unnecessary feeling of mollification, I continued.

"Long has it been that the elves of Mirkwood have defended our home. My father has been a good, if not occasionally hard ruler." I took a deep breath. "We all know of Annatar's gathering storm in his dark kingdom, it has been far too long…" I trailed off helplessly.

"Your father wants to know the _how, why,_ and _when?_" Elrond observed sagely. I nodded silently. The elder halfling sat down on the dais, his gaze somewhere I could not fathom. "It is true that the Mirror grows dark" he acceded. "Both here and in Lothlorien. Ever have Annatar and Melkor strove against the goodness of Iluvatar. I have no doubt we should expect a turn of the tides, and soon. But I cannot say how or when, the why is obvious."

Against my will, I felt myself pale.

"You speak ill news" I murmured. "Ill and unclear, more's the worse."

"I'm sorry I cannot provide you with more" the half-elf remarked. "I wondered why Thranduil would send his only son across the Misty Mountains, and now I am afraid I must disappoint him."

I had no answer for him, other than to reassure him that my father knew the frustrations of an unclear future, and that there was no shame in not knowing something. With my departure date unclear, I settle down in one of the little white rooms for the night with a book and a small cup of lauredhel, possessing little thought but rest and the day to come.

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><p>In Mirkwood, I was too often woken by a harassed-looking council member whose only goal seemed to be dressing me in the most uncomfortable garb possible, sitting me down-<em>"back straight, chin high!"-<em>next to my father as he went about his government for the day, and making me as discomfited as was necessary. When I came of age for combat training, I was knocked out of the trees by early-rising seniors who would prefer their lesser fellows wake up in midair than in a cloak. In Mirkwood, status doesn't particularly matter when it comes to military, everyone is killing the same thing. And-of course-on the road I was woken by greedy, hungry eyes and ravenous spiders the size of catapults. It wasn't that I was particularly incompetent-I am one of the best marksmen ever recorded-it was the simple fact that I did make mistakes like anyone else. Too oft are elves spoken of as ethereal beings shimmering on the edge of human memory like misguided phantoms. It is true that what do not age, have super-human reflexes, and little need to sleep. Adversely, I have seen a royal company of Mirkwood elves drink themselves silly, my father has tripped in my presence perhaps twice, I once caught an elder member of the community sleeping near a hot spring, and there was a peculiar elf of the royal committee that belched loudly whenever someone mentioned _athealas._ He was removed rather quickly but it still does good to mention we are not in any way perfect.

In Ithilien, I woke up mid-morning and wandered about until I came across Elrohir in the cheese cellars. I had met the sons of Elrond only once, when an unknown sickness began to affect the trees in Mirkwood. They are master healers and well-versed in deep lore pertaining to Herbology and rejuvenation. By my knowledge, neither of them had married...their love of learning far surpassing need for companionship. Both of them were jovial and good-spirited, possessing an almost irresistible aura of positivism.

"Well met, Legolas."

I smiled as he hailed me traditionally and stepped back.

"Well met Elrohir" I nodded to the round of cheese in the healer's hand. "An odd time to partake isn't it? Especially in such a large amount."

Elrohir looked confused for a moment; then laughed merrily as comprehension dawned upon him.

"Oh, this isn't for me it's for Estel!"

I frowned.

"Estel?"

"My foster brother" he replied, tucking the wheel under an arm and leaning against a precarious stack of redwyn.

"Gilraen's son?"

Elrohir nodded.

"You know young ones. Always wanting to eat at strange times and always wanting to eat strange things." He beckoned me out of the cellar and into the hallway. "Come" he said, putting a hand on the ivory staircase leading back into the main house. "You can meet him if you like."

Having no intention of leaving that day and no word from Elrond, I saw no reason to disagree. Following him over the open space overhung by carven canopies and overshadowing at least six different waterfalls, we came to the apex-curve of the house that followed the steep rock face with particular stringency. Though slightly tiered. the majority of The Last Homely House rested under singular roofs with leaf-like gables. It was very much like a grandiose cottage.

"Elladan is watching over Estel while Gilraen takes time to grieve." Elrohir said idly, though I detected a vein of hesitancy in his voice. "He had nursemaids, being shunted about isn't new to him."

The lighthearted tone of Elrohir's speech wasn't deceiving enough for me to see through it. From what I had gleaned, Gilraen wasn't present much at all and it was not commonplace for her to be so indisposed to her son. We had arrived in front of an enclosed garden. Thinly pillard archways ran identically 'round the perimeter, giving way to green grass and a bench with a fountain shaped like a fish encircled with moon-colored flagstones. I particularly remember that the air was breezy, warm, and inhumid. Elladan sat on the bench with his back to me, his arm around a head of soft brown waves. Hearing our approach, Elrohir's twin stood with a smile, coming forth to greet and roust with his brother. While the two sported, I made my way around them to kneel next to the bench where the little boy sat watching forlornly.

"Hello Estel" I said softly. "My name is Legolas, it is very good to meet you." Bright grey eyes met mine, and I caught a thousand questions. "I know your name, but who are you? Why are you here? Can I trust you? Where is my father? Where is my mother? Will you be my friend?" I took a deep breath as an overwhelming pity flooded my soul. "I am very sorry for your loss."

A flash of resentment flickered across his face, as if I had reminded him of something best left forgotten

"Why's your hair yellow?" Estel blurted.

I laughed.

"Because my father is Sindarin."

"What's that?"

"An elf from a different family."

"Why?"

"I don't know, young one."

Estel looked shocked at the fact that an adult might not know something. I was sorely tempted to laugh but did not. After of few minutes of quiet informational digestion in which he sat very still, Estel sprang to life as if stung.

"Want to play?"

Having failed to receive an invitation such as that for near four thousand and nine-hundred forty years, I was rather at a loss of what to do. In Amon Lanc, the few young companions I had and I were allowed to roam wherever we wished. The poor child's expression was so earnest I could hardly refuse, but I did not know the rules of Imladris, or if Estel could simply go wherever he wanted. As it was, I mouthed helplessly as my newfound friend began to look a little more crestfallen by every second until Elrohir noted my indecision and came to my aid.

"Estel may go anywhere in Rivendell, provided he is accompanied by at least one adult." He smiled encouragingly when I continued to look uncertain. "Don't worry, I think you'll find children rather entertain themselves and those around them."

He was very right. To be honest, he was entirely too right. It turned out that Extel knew his way about Rivendell far better than I, and even with elvish senses I found it hard to keep pace. It was especially difficult when he would urge us to go to a specific destination and take off running in places I could not possibly duck down low enough or squeeze through. It made me question if he was not half-elvin. I was partially right, as it turned out but that is lineage and history you already know.

While all of this cavorting was going on, the boy kept on a stead stream of questions that seemed to flow from one to the other without waiting for any kind of answer in particular. I must have answered a hundred different questions all pertaining to different subjects.

Elf-children are rare, as the act of creating them is not often-(unless you count Feanor and Nernadel...and myself)-you must understand that with limitless lifespan we are not so pressed for pleasure or recreation as humans. Young ones are a blessing from Iluvatar, and never to be taken for granted or conceived without years of forethought.

"Can we be friends?"

Standing once more in the little courtyard where the fellowship was formed, I am struck almost painfully by my ignorance of its importance. Estel sat on the mid-height dias, nibbling33 on the round of cheese that was far too big for him. He smiled in earnest as he asked and my heart went out to him. Kneeling by the future heir of Gondor who had no more knowledge of his heritage than the rise of Annatar was a strange thing. And yet, as angelic fingers offered to share the cheese with me I was helpless to agree.

"Yes, Estel, _me van mellyn."_

We are friends.

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><p>After my somewhat extensive research into Sindarin I discovered plurals.<p>

"Friend" singular in elvish is 'mellon'. When you change a final syllable vowel "o" turns to "y"; hence 'mellyn." Someone tried to teach me this a long time ago, frankly they were a horrible instructor. But I'm rather proud of myself in any case.

The "I don't know" Legolas counters Estel with then he asks why and what Sindarin is, is more of a_ "I don't really want to recount eleven lineage in a long-winded and plot-deviated diatribe, so_ "I dont know.""


	3. Mi Van Me?

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. All characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkein. Short chapter.

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><p>It seemed that wherever I went, Estel followed. Elrond did not call for me that day, and I was consequentially at the mercy of the boy and his (much) elder brothers. Despite the twins' boisterousness and Estel's energy, I enjoyed myself thoroughly. All of them were well-versed in elvish and Estel made a point of showing it off in my presence. After a tour around Rivendell, he fell asleep next to his plate at dinner, much to everyone's amusement. Elrohir took him back to Gilraen, who did not attend dinner.<p>

It was during this meal that I first met Arwen. I'd been sitting aside Elrohir and a dark-haired elf who was chatting away at her friend so happily I did not get to ask her name. When Estel collapsed into the table, Arwen vacated the twin's empty seat. The daughter of Elrond ever holds a special place in my heart. If not for her kindness, for the mercy she showed me years later. At that moment, her beauty held me in such awe I was at a loss for polite words.

_"Mae Govvannen, Laeglas" _she said softly. "My father told me of your arrival, but I'm afraid that I was otherwise preoccupied until now."

"A star shines on our meeting" I replied automatically. "It is good to meet you."

"And you. Tell me, what brings you to Imladris?"

It was easy to talk to her. Truly, it was as if we had been friends for years. She too knew of and felt the rising shadow of Sauron, though we did not speak of it long. It seemed she had been raised as an elf-maiden should and more. I perceived a wisdom in her that I had seen in few others at the time. Elrond glanced down the table every once in a while, and it seemed hope kindled in his eyes where none had been before. Arwen spoke of the happenings in Mirkwood and asked after my father.

"I hear that you live in caves, like dwarves."

"We are nothing like dwarves" I bristled. "And they live in mountains."

My recalcitrance didn't seem to bother her in the least, though she did graciously ask my forgiveness.

"Estel very much likes you" she remarked, taking a leaf of lettuce off Elrohir's plate. "I've never seen him take to anyone so quickly."

"He's a very sweet child" I agreed. "I feel sorry for him."

"Don't" she said, eyes twinkling. "I think he feels rather badly for you. Just now I heard him asking Elrohir to _'make sure Legolas the yellow-headed elf wasn't feeling out of place._'" I flushed.

"I don't think he feels badly here" I said carefully. "I just wonder at..." I hesitated, glancing towards Elrond, who was preoccupied. "I sometimes wonder where Gilraen is. I have not seen her once in my entire visit."

Arwen's eyelids lowered.

"I have somewhat of a healer's touch" she said quietly, also glancing at her father. "I fear this is only the beginning of Gilraen's...absence. Do not take me wrongly, she loves her son, but her mind is...overcome with grief. I don't think she will ever fully recover. Not even for Estel."

"What will be done?" I asked, horrified at the mere thought of a mother detaching from her child.

"Adar is a good man" Arwen said affectionately. "He will look after him, do not worry. It is sorry that Gilraen cannot pull herself from her grief, but even the best beings on earth have quailed under the shadow of loss."

"Estel is in bed" came Elrohir's voice. "After much ado about nothing." The normally merry-faced elf grasped the back of his former chair and gave his sibling a look of mock-consternation. Arwen smiled cheekily and put a hand over mind in jest.

"Now, brother. You cannot keep our guest all to yourself you know."

"Oh I know, but you musn't push yourself on him either."

Arwen laughed and the evening went on pleasantly until Elrond rose, dismissing the rest of the party automatically. Arwen retired to spend time with her father and the twins invited me to a game of dice that I failed spectacularly. Once the two brothers tired of watching me lose, I was dragged to a midnight poetry reading that was quite spectacular. The literary festivities lasted until dawn, and by that time Estel had clambered out of his bed to sit in my lap and eat breakfast.

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><p>"Legolas! Watch me dive!"<p>

Looking up from the text I was perusing pertaining to Elrond's youthful ventures-(kindly lent to me by Elladan)-I smiled and nodded as Estel clung to a harried looking Elrohir as they splashed about in the waters of the Ford. In the three days since I arrived the boy was already referring to the Twins as 'brothers'. I had caught him tugging Elrond's robe mid-morning saying _'Adar' _with a peculiar look on his face that told me it was the first time he had used such a phrase on the revered elf and was curious to see his reaction. Arwen was merely 'Arwen.' Evidently both 'sister' and _'muinthelnin' _had been distasteful to him after several uses. I myself was privileged with the continued use of my name, along with _'penbain', 'glantiri', _and other misconstrued Sindarin phrases.

In truth, I had been delaying my departure from Imladris as much as possible. In the Caverns, my life consisted of training, politics, and battle. Adar was not one to promote undue amounts of leisure and the merriment we did happen to enjoy consisted of midnight revels under the myopic Mirkwood pines. My place was that of perimeter guard; keeping out spiders and the worse. I cannot remember a time I was permitted to join the festivities. You must think my father a cruel man at this point. In the stirrings at the apex of my youth I was like-minded. I do not think I would have half the self-discipline I possess if it weren't for my stringent upbringing.

Still, I was loathe to abandon the gravid peace of Rivendell for the grand but uptight and mistrustful caverns of my father. Elrond had not approached me with any news and Arwen assured me that word would come if anything changed.

"You know you must go soon" she said gently, joining me to watching Estel and Elrohir swim. I looked at her, at the soft midnight falls of her hair, and the porcelain fullness of her face. My heart ached; for it was the closest to having a mother I'd ever been...knowing Arwen. She smiled and took my hand. "We will meet again, Greenleaf, I am sure of it."

"It was truly happy to meet you, my lady" I replied.

_"Savo 'lass lalaith ollo vae" _she countered. "You must tell Estel now."

It was no easy to say goodbye to Gilraen's son. Though I did not ever meet her, I was and am still grateful to her for bringing me close to Estel. At first, he thought I jested and merely laughed. We stood at the gate, surrounded by the house of Elrond. The boy's face fell as he realized I did not toy with him.

"Why?" he asked, his face contorted in a mask of bravery that contrasted sharply with the tears in his eyes.

"I must go home to my Ada" I said softly, kneeling to his height and stroking his curls.

"Can I go with you?"

"No, little one" Arwen cut in. "Legolas' journey is long and dangerous."

"I'm brave" Estel snapped.

"Yes" I replied soothingly. "And someday perhaps you shall see my home. But I travel light and on foot. I do not stop to eat or rest, it is a hard journey and I cannot watch you. Moreover, I am not your _Adar_, and I do not think Elrond wishes you to go with me."

"Elrond is not my _Ada" _the boy countered in a rare show of stubbornness. "I am my own."

"As we all are" I agreed, looking into his eyes. "But your mother will miss you, and I think Elrond very much views you as his own."

There were things that passed between us in those moments we looked at each other. There was the singular and unspoken fact that both Estel and I knew that Gilraen was little likely to protest if I should take her son. Also, there was the inevitable truth that Estel knew I was the son of a King and, having been the son of a very great man, knew what duties awaited me and how preoccupied I was going to be once I left. Finally, Estel looked to me as his first true friend since being in Rivendel. Elrohir and Elladan were his brothers to be sure, but I was his _friend. _

"You hate me" Estel sobbed.

_"Ai_ no!" I breathed, stricken. "I will come back" I added desperately, not sure if it was true.

_"Mi van me?" _

"I promise" I said weakly, feeling a liar as I said it.

Estel hugged me then, and left me feeling cruel and desperate. Arwen kissed my cheeks, having already said farewell and Elrond came forward to reassure me and bless my journey. Elladan and Elrohir escorted me up the winding path back onto the road. It was there that they bade me an exuberant and tearful farewell. I am not ashamed to say I wept a bit myself.

They then vanished back into the Valley and I was left alone; looking towards the Misty Mountains with my heart heavy and my soul left somewhere behind, with a little boy who did not know that someday he would be king.

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><p><em>Mi van me?-<em>Do you promise?

_Mae Govvannen-_Well met.

_Adar/Ada-_my father/roughly-"father."

_Muinthelnin-_my sister.

_penbain-_roughly "beautiful one."

_glantiri-_bright eyes

_savo 'lass a lalaith ollo vae-_have joy and laughter until we next meet

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><p><strong>A Note on The Text: <strong>There is no sure account that Legolas ever visited Rivendell before the time of the Fellowship. Therefore, I must attest the majority of this chapter is speculation. Additionally, I do not truly know what ever happened to Gilraen(other than Arathorn's death) that made her so unhappy, or if she really did 'detach' from Estel as I have claimed. What is known is the fact that Gilraen deeply disapproved of Aragorns courtship with Arwen. (which is great for this story! But not so great when running in vein with the true plot). torwp/2013/03/16/69954-the-tragedy-of-gilraen-aragorns-mother/-attests that Gilraen died in deep despair for the fate of the Dunedain. Aragorn certainly makes no great mention of her in any of the LOTRO texts, and praises his foster father Elrond above many. However, there is no account specifically saying that Gilraen was a bad mother in her own respects.


	4. i-pathw min-min hin

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. All respects to J.R.R Tolkien.

This is what I like to call a 'brick and mortar' chapter.

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><p><strong>Lanslyna: <strong>I'm so glad that you enjoyed it, and that my first person dialogue was up-to-par. Thank you for pointing out the text inconsistencies to me, I will do what I can to rectify them. As for the young Estel; I know it sounds terrible, horrible and very bad: but I was so _bored _writing that chapter. I think it's because I have read so many fanfictions (very, very good fanfictions) that focus upon the young Estel for a few chapters, and it took all the wonders of introducing him out of it. Additionally, getting to know the young Estel, knowing where their relationship would lead-made me feel super creepy. I will rehash on his childhood a little in later chapters (i.e. minimal flashbacks, or narrated passages from Aragorn) but I don't think I will go back to the young Estel. I hope that doesn't put you off the story =( Thanks for reviewing!

**yue-chan:** Thank you, I'm happy to hear that it was engaging! I was actually a bit afraid that my reference to elves as 'imperfect' would stir up some ire, but I'm glad you received it so well. As I told Lanslyna, I was sinfully and horrifically bored with introducing Estel. I'm going to burn in LOTRO fanfic hell for saying that. I did research quite a bit for this piece, as I want it to be thorough and accurate. Any input would be appreciated if you notice any inconsistencies. Thanks for the comment!

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><p>I have entered my father's halls with a sense of sullenness, anger, and admonition. Dragging my feet to the base of the stone dais where Thranduil sat, I was accosted with a feeling of dread. It had not so much to do with Adar as it had to do with the second step down from him, where I usually sat. In my time returning home I had balked at the thought of returning to that spot. Head in hand...a scratchy silk robe, or the tough mithril armor in times of war. Ever Thranduil's silent and ominous shadow...ever the pretty-faced elf-prince who sat as if made of stone.<p>

_"Na vedui" _Adar breathed, standing and coming to greet me. _"Man agoreg, Legolas? _What did you do? Lose yourself in Imladris? You need to be quicker with these things."

Belaying his stern tone, his fingers briefly touched my face and hair in a fashion I had not seen since my childhood. I knew he had worried after me and forgave him his anger.

_"Le suilon, Adar" _I murmured, taking his hands as was customary. "The Lord Elrond sends his regards and Blessing. Truly, I did not mean to delay for so long, I have not the news you seek but perhaps some comfort and other less-pressing information."

My father's eyes searched mine for a minute-eyes I had once thought could see my very soul-and then landed on the motionless Guard at the foot of his throne.

_"An ngell nin ego."_

He then turned and swept back up the stairs to his antlered throne, any pretense of affection gone as if it had never been. I remained at the base with my hands behind my back whilst the guard left the hall swiftly and silently. Once we were alone, I recounted my ventures, careful not to gloss over any details. Thranduil was silent until I had finished, his gaze focused on my face-searching for any sign of deceit. He needn't have bothered. I'd given up lying to him at the age of thirteen. He was silent for a while afterwards, leaving me to contemplate the soft drip of moisture in the dark recesses of the cavern.

_"Agorel vae, iomeg" _he praised, surprising me. "I know this was your first time travelling alone, and an emissary at that. You presented our Name honorably. _Guren glassuj."_

Unbalanced by his near-exuberant-for-Thranduil praise and overcome with emotion, I faltered.

"Only for you Ada" I said eagerly and with little formality. "Adar...do you think I could go there again?"

Father frowned, leaning back in his chair.

"Why?"

Encouraged further by his non-immediate refusal, I plunged on.

"There is so much to learn there. And everyone was so good to me, especially Estel and Arwen. I enjoyed the journey too, even battling the monsters on the way."

For a moment, it seemed as if a wistful shadow passed over my Father's face. A shadow that understood and shared my adventurous emotions. But soon that faint glimpse into my Adar's soul was gone, and replaced by a look of mild indignation.

"And you do no think you could learn as much from me or our people?"

"We don't have a library" I pointed out, almost instantly regretting it.

"So we are of lesser ilk than the elves of Imladris?" Thranduil growled.

"No!" I said desperately. "_Ai Ada! _Our people live in trees! We only use these caves because we are royalty. You know we're of a wilder ilk than those of Rivendell or Lothlorien, and there is naught wrong with that. But can you truly deny me the pleasures of book-learning and knowledge of the deeps?"

"You are masterfully skilled in etiquette, elvenlore, the History of Middle Earth, combat, and all matter of politics. What more could you possibly learn in Rivendell? Despite our people being misconstrued as..._'fey'_" he spat the final word out akin to a curse.

"I enjoyed myself Adar" I replied desperately, abandoning all pretenses of learning. "I promised Estel I would come back! Cannot you allow me the leisure of travel for simple social pleasure? I won't go often, maybe once a year-"

_"-Daro!" _Thranduil snapped. "Enough, Greenleaf. I've not seen you beg so pitifully since you were but young. Go. I will think on it."

_"Goheno-nin Adar" _I said miserably.

"Truly, my son, I will consider your words" Thrandul said gently. I looked wanly at him through the fall of my hair and he smiled fondly, as if caught in a memory. "Think you that I have forgotten the wonders of travel and kingship? Smile;_ Gellon ned i galar i chent gîn ned i gladhog. Gi melen. _Now go."

My soul ached to argue, but so rare and touching were his words I had not the heart. Instead, I went to find dinner and seek a way of writing to Arwen.

After all, if a child does not test his boundaries, he will not know any at all.

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><p>Months went by without any word from Rivendell. I did get a letter from Arwen, informing me that she had reestablished in Lothlorien, to continue her education. This saddened me, as it seemed that the tight-knit family I had met was dispersing across all of Middle Earth. A gross exaggeration, and in part due to the youthful resistance to change in my mind, but it did not help me in the least. After the aforementioned letter, she did not write me. Lothlorien's location was ever-more threatened, and a barrage of couriers in and out of sacred ground did the Lady Galadriel no good at all. Arwen did not have to tell me, I knew all too well the dangers of exposing Dwimordene. I spent my days harrying the couriers for news and going about my usual duties. News did come eventually, though it was not necessarily good. I remember that many years had passed and I had given up hope of ever returning to Rivendell. My thoughts had been forced elsewhere in any case, towards the ever-growing forces of Sauron and the subsequently ever-growing worry of my father. Long ago, I had accepted the fact that I would someday resign myself to kingship. Whether when Thranduil tired of it, or when he took to the Sea, I did not know at the time. Verily, I considered it a dull job from my observations. Nothing inside me leaped at the thought of listening to the woes of citizenry day in and day out.<p>

I was standing outside the Caverns overseeing a delivery of apples and desperately bored, when a courier bearing the Imladris colors came riding into the sparse space. His horse was lathered and the look on his face spoke only of grim tidings. Practically throwing the chart I'd been ticking off at an attendant, I rushed to meet him without calling for the guards.

"_Erain Thranduil?"_

"No" I said quickly. "His son, Legolas. Adar is in the Throneroom."

The messenger seemed mildly put off by my formal address of the Elvenking but recovered quickly.

"The tidings I bear are for King Thranduil only" he replied, allowing a note of apology to seep into his tone. "Would you be so good as to lead me to him?"

I nodded and called for the stable master to take his steed, whilst the Guard rushed forward to check him for concealed weapons. I earned a few disparaging looks for rushing out with no accompaniment, but I did not care.

My father was busy listening to an Elderly emissary grouse at him, and had been since the dwarf arrived that morning. It wasn't customary for Ada to receive dwarfkind, but something about it was an exception and I didn't pry. Leaving the messenger at the edge of the Hall, I approached the throne and bowed respectfully, ignoring the indignant look that the emissary gave me for interrupting him mid-tirade.

_"Hraine apsene, Adar. _There is an emissary from Rivendell wishing to speak with you. Urgent news it seems."

_"La fael; _Legolas" Thrandual said wearily. "Forgive me Master Dwarf, perhaps we can continue our conversation later." He gestured at me. "My son would be happy to find you a meal and mayhap a brief rest to pass the time."

The old dwarf looked affronted at being sent off so quickly, but recovered good spirits when Adar mentioned food and a bed. I myself was outraged at my father for dismissing me from something he knew meant so much to me in such a casual manner. A part of me wanted to shout at him. Instead, I settled for a cutting-and unbelievably immature-rebuttal.

_"Nin gwerianneg" _I said scathingly. _"Ego, mibo orch!" _Thranduil's eyebrows disappeared into his forehead. "Come with me, Master Dwarf" I added pleasantly, proffering my arm as an added insult.

Without looking back, I led the elderly individual out of the hall, ignoring the incredulous-looking courier at the entrance. The kitchens were at the far end of the caverns. I left the dwarf with an attendant before exiting the caves to fire arrows at a practice dummy to expend some of my anger. It wasn't long before my exertions carried me into the evening and well into Twilight. I was used to such disappointments from Adar, but this had hit me particularly hard. Perhaps because I had been so bored of late...I don't know. Footsteps sounded behind about an hour after the dinner bell. Ignoring them, I fitted another arrow to my bow and drew back. A hand on my shoulder caused me to release oversoon, and the head of the arrow embedded itself an eighth of an inch dead center, by which time I had my daggers drawn and my arms oscillating to meet with the blade of...my father. Upon recognition, I dropped my guard and threw my weapons down in childish disgust.

"Greenleaf" Thranduil sighed, sheathing his own sword and gathering up my fallen arms. "Are you truly so angry with me?"

I turned my face to the side, glowering resolutely at the the rocky soil underneath us. When he did not speak for some time, I relented slightly.

"You promised" I muttered tightly.

"I promised you I would think on it" he reminded me sharply. "In any case, that emissary is a very important individual, as I am sure you know. Dismissing him with a common servant would have been a severe insult. Moreover, the courier's message was for my ears only." He touched the aforementioned appendages in a rare show of humor. "T'would be shameful to disregard Elrond's request simply because you are overeager."

"I don't understand why I'm disregarded in such affairs, if I'm to rule I deserve to know."

My father ran a hand over his brow, a sigh he was impatient but attempting to be tolerant.

"I will tell you what was said Greenleaf, but you cannot allow the woes of etiquette to affect you so." Mollified, and slightly ashamed, I let him lead me back into the caverns and into his study. "Come sit by the fire' Thranduil said, taking a seat himself. "Sauron's power grows ever-stronger" he continued when I had seated myself. "Elrond says that Mithrandir claims his power has returned to our Greenwood."

I looked at him in horror.

"As it was before?"

_"Dul Guldur _is darkened once more" Adar said grimly. "I have been inattentive."

"Does Elrond know what to do?" I breathed.

"Mithrandir and Radagast will be looking into it" the Elvenking replied, and I noted the irritation in his voice. "As of now, Gandalf is preoccupied with...urgent matters."

"What could possibly be more _urgent _than the rise of Annatar?"I asked incredulously.

"I do not know. The courier could tell me very little. Something about _'Shire' _and _'Hobbits.'" _

Thranduil trailed off, though I caught _'Dwarves', 'Mountain' _and _'Treasure.' _Needless to say, I was more than a little bewildered, and when my father dismissed me I nearly felt more unsatisfied than when the courier arrived.

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><p><strong>Translations:<strong>

_i pathw min-min hin-_the space between our eyes

_na vedui!-_at last!

_man agoreg-_what did you do?

_an ngell nin ego-_please be gone (very rough translation)

_agor eg vae, ionneg-_you did well, my son

_guren glassuj-_thank you, from my heart

_Daro!-_stop/enough!

_Goheno nin-_I'm sorry

_Gellon ned i galar i chent gîn ned i gladhog-_ I love to see your eyes shine when you laugh

_gi mellen-_ I love you

_erain-_King (roughly, used as a form for someone lording over an area)

_Hrein apsene-_this was a lost translation, but it wildly means "excuse me, pardon me."

_La fael-_also a lost translation, roughly 'alright, very well'

_Nin gweri anneg-_you have betrayed me

_Ego mibo orch-_go kiss an orc!

**Notes on the Text: **I know this chapter dragged, it did for me, but I wanted to establish a relationship and dialogue between father and son, just so readers could grasp that there wasn't total tyranny on Thranduil's part. Otherwise, I kind of ground my teeth through this one (as I'm sure you have). But. Seriously. Thranduil can't always be a dick.

I was a bit clueless on Arwen's history. A few of websites suggest she spent time in both Imladris and Lothlorien. A reader did point out to me that Estel and Arwen may never have met before Aragorn fell in love with her. Taking that in stride, I have sent her away to Lothlorien, but I have no idea if she went to Lothlorien to study, stargaze, or drink laradhel, or if she went there within that time frame at all. Hopefully, Estel will forget who she is. (bad joke).

Another issue I'm having is the initial degradation of _Amon Lanc _to _Gul Gudur, _the second degradation, and the combination of Aragorn's age, the Battle Under the Trees, and the Hobbit. Middle Earth Time is seriously weird. Everyone lives a lot longer than normal, so forgive me if I've screwed up the time frame a little bit. I have a copy of the Silmarillion but it is incredibly compressed and references are hard to locate via the index. Additionally, once references are located, they are long, twenty-page sections of historia when I just need : _"This _happened, and then _this _happened. And _so and so _was _this _old."

R&R


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